Kinners vs SHIELD
by Kinners
Summary: After screening a potentially dangerous phone call, S.H.I.E.L.D. inadvertently picks up none other than-*Dramatic drumroll*-yours truly! As Kinners is graced with the presence of famous agent after famous agent, she winds herself ever deeper into an ever-growing facade. Note: 'Me' has been modified so as to not completely reflect my real life persona. This is for security reasons.
1. Chapter 1

Vision slowly returns to me. Slowly. _Slooooooooowwwwwwwwlyyyyyyyy._ It's kind of annoying, waiting so long, but when I can see, it's pretty interesting.

I'm in a straightjacket, which is weird, but slightly cool. I've never been in one before. It's not as comfy as I thought it would be, more like wearing a cot. But I know better than to struggle-you only need to watch the End of Time arc once to learn that straightjackets aren't the end of the world. The end of time and all lesser existence, maybe, but who cares? That's happened at least three or four times in Doctor Who. I yawn before I can stop myself, although it's unlikely that I would've stopped myself anyway. My contacts are irritating me, as if I slept in them...oh. Let's see, woke up without haven consciously fallen asleep, in a strange room, and in a straightjacket. Duh.

Sitting across from me at the steel table I find myself pulled up to is a bald African American dude with an eyepatch. The one eye seems all the brighter and blazier, as if to make up for its missing brother. I swallowed to get the stale taste out of my mouth, but it didn't prove very effective. What was the last thing I ate? I'm pretty sure my palate's going to be feeling that for a while.

"Hi!" I greet cheerily, trying as valiantly as possible to replicate David Tennant's line in the Idiot Lantern episode. He sighs quietly, as if I'm annoying him. "And, um...who would you be?"

"I was just about to ask you the same," he rumbles. My smile vanishes-I had the feeling he was mad at me for some reason. "If you're pulling some innocent cover, I suggest you drop it now. We don't take well to illusionists here."

"I'll say!" crows another voice. A door slides open to my right, revealing a new dude in a t-shirt and jeans. He has dark hair and a flashy mustache, which I instantly adored. He has a bit of a furtive look about him, with bright black eyes and a deceptively emotionless expression. He points at me, his other hand occupied with what appeared to be potato chips.

"That's our guy?" he clarifies, cocking an eyebrow as he ran this development by the first dude. I raise both eyebrows at this.

"_Girl_, in case you haven't noticed," I replied carefully. "Oh, and by the way, hi! Love the mustache. I'd wave frantically, but I seem to have been denied control of my arms."

"That's our guy," replies Eyepatch, ignoring me. Even ruder than not waving at every person that enters the room! Who does this guy think he is? I almost don't want to be burdened with the information. I blink at him blankly.

"What did I do this time?" I grumble, mock scowling. "Oh no, let me guess-was I sleepwalking? I hope I didn't break the universe with a shovel again. Last time was pretty embarrassing!"

Now they're both looking at me weird. I don't know what I did wrong. The thought reminds me of Derpyhooves. I'm scatterbrained that way. Then I realize why the dark-haired guy looks so familiar to me. He looks just like…

...no, that's not possible. Is it?

"You know who you remind me of?" I ask, gesturing to mustache man with an obscure shoulder thrust. "It's kind of uncanny, but you look just like Tony Stark from the battle of-"

Tony stares at me for a moment, as if willing me to put the pieces together. My brain explodes and a huge grin busts out on my face simultaneously.

"No way."

"Way," replies Tony.

"Director Fury, head of S.H.I.E.L.D.," introduces chrome dome. "In case you're wondering why you were picked up, we got your call. About Loki."

It takes me a moment to contemplate what he's saying, partially because I had a hyperactive breakdown that lasted about ten seconds.

"The Tony Stark!?" I blurt, my smile so big it would give Pinkie Pie a joyful heart attack. The words tumble out of my mouth like a litter of puppies out of a pen. "As in, _Iron Man, _AKA Tony Stark? That is _so cool!_ Are the rest here? Hawkeye, Black Widow, Banner, Rogers, the works? Ooh, what about Thor? Wait, did you ask me something?"

"I did," growls Fury. At his scowl, I attempt to calm down, an attempt that died stillborn.

"You mean my call to my friend Mike the other day?" Fury cocks an eyebrow at me, an invitation to continue in my book. "Yeeeah, I don't think I mentioned Loki. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know my Nordic mythology, but I don't, like, _know_ him. If I did, then that's where I'd get my improv lessons."

"You didn't mention him, huh?" challenged Fury. I shrank a little. "Tony, play back the call."

Grunting affirmation through a mouthful of potato chips, Tony pulls out a mobile phone and does something techno-wizardy with the intercom speaker on the table next to Fury. My phone call from yesterday plays back, only rendering my speech and not Mike's.

"_Heyaaall!_...yeah, are you coming to Thor 2 today? ...aw, that's too bad. That's okay, I'll *kk*ill you in. Hm?...oh, okay. Sorry, you know how I am about spoilers...right? That's the one thing you _can_ trust me with! I've got the korkiest brain since Loki put on his extra-tricky-hat! ...yes, I stole that from How to Train your Dragon. Cowell is the best, am I right? ...you _still_ haven't read that!? Geez...don't even start! May magic be my shield…all right, I'll meet you at the helic-what?...oh yeah. Shows how much of an airhead I am. Might as well be an empty cube...'kay, bye."

Nick rubbed his temples, swearing under his breath.

"So you mean to tell me," began Tony, rolling his eyes at me as if it's all my fault. "that we picked up eight keywords from an innocent conversation between you and your buddy Mitch?"

"Mike."

"Whatever."

"I apologize for the inconvenience," said Fury, letting out a deep breath and clenching his fists. "You may go now."

"Oh no you don't, you tricksy hobbit!" I retorted. "I'm not_ that_ dumb. Not to say I'm not dumb, because I am certifiably dumb. But anyway, I know that you're not going to just let me go with vital information!"

"Such as, 'I met Iron Man! What now!?'" imitated Tony. I pouted at him.

"She's right, Tony," relented Fury. "She knows that we really exist, for one thing. How do we fix that?"

"I guess I can't go anywhere with such devastating intel," I fake sigh, casting my eyes to the ceiling. "Imagine if I was to move outside the country. What if I was interrogated by Russian terrorists? Or by _Chitauri?_ Odin forbid that should happen!"

Tony and Fury were silent for a while.

"You're not going anywhere."


	2. Chapter 2

Tony and Fury left the room, leaving me alone under the stark white light on the ceiling. Heh, Stark, do you see what I did there? Anyway, I got bored. Really bored. So I started singing to myself, as I am wont to do when I get bored. Nothing melodramatic, just Pinkie's Brew from Friendship is Witchcraft. The Russian Gypsy Jazz version. Can't be too careful with backing up the Russian Terrorist threat, can I?

I was just at my favorite part in the song when the door opens up again. A girl hangs in the doorway for a minute, talking to someone just outside the door that I can't see. But then in she comes, and I instantly recognize her. Black Widow. I almost had a mental breakdown then and there. First Iron Man, now _her!?_ What are the chances of something as crazy as this? One in seven point o' four six billion. Guess I'm number 7,046,000,000.

"So you're the red alert?" mused Natasha, taking a seat. I shrug at her unhelpfully, which doubtless told her fifteen things about myself. Okay, maybe twenty. I can't help it, I'm expressive, and it doesn't help that Black Widow could probably determine what I had for breakfast this morning from the way I roll my eyes.

"What're you gonna do, lady?" I taunt. What am I doing? "Read my lips? Figure out what I had for breakfast? I won't talk."

"I don't believe you," she replied. I thought she would've smirked, or frowned at least, but she kept a poker face that was about as communicative as a goldfish. "I can tell. You're the kind of girl who talks a lot. About…?"

"Doctor Who, Star Wars, Ponies, Lord of the Rings-you name it!" I answered peppily. "Wait-that's cheating! You're supposed to read my body language to figure out what I'm thinking! Why am I still in a straitjacket? They're not very comfy, y'know. Could I get this off?"

"Stop trying to change the subject, please," ordered Natasha calmly. She's really good at that. I wonder what her secret is.

"I wasn't trying to change the subject!" I retorted indignantly in my best outraged-old-dude voice. "The thought of it appals me! How could such an innocent creature as me cheat her way out of a good ol' fashioned interrogation!?"

"This isn't an interrogation," stated Natasha flatly. "It's a confession."

"Well, you could've_ told_ me that in the first place!" I snapped. "Would've saved me a lot of trouble. You interrogation people have no people skills whatsoever! I mean, have you ever thought of _asking nicely_ if this or that happened? 'Cause when you think about it, all the spies are programmed to resist abominable torture techniques, not kindness and friendship! In this day and age, you could probably get Loki himself to talk with no one but Fluttershy! Or maybe Pinkie Pie. Derpy? Maybe, depending on the situation..,"

"All right, all right, we get it," chided Natasha, raising a hand to shut me up. 'We?' I should've known she had someone on taps! "You will confess willingly?"

I nodded. What the merry kriff was I getting myself into?

"All right," invited Natasha, leaning back casually. She hadn't smiled since she entered the room, which kinda bummed me out. "Let's hear it."

"Let's see here," I began, hatching a spontaneous alibi in my head as I went on. "It all started twenty-something years ago. I know what you're thinking: that's impossible, she's not that old. But I am not a teenager-in fact I don't know if I qualify as human anymore. 1990's, U2 was ramping it up, everything was hip and chill. Then I get bitten by a werewolf, which is why I've barely aged a year or two in the space of twenty.

"About a month or two after I became a werewolf, I'm approached by what appears to be a middle-aged businessman with weird eyes and dark hair. He had it slicked back...I think he was trying to pull off a mafia look. Anyway, he reveals that he knows everything about me, from age one to the present. Well, the back-then present, not today-present. We lost contact. He hires me for his 'upcoming coup,' says that he likes my wolf talents, and I sign up. I started small at first; sniffing out certain people this guy wants, interpreting the rhythms of the moon, etcetera. But I get suspicious when he starts letting little things slip-he doesn't seem to recognize national things like cars and chain restaurants.

Then I walk in while he's meditating, and I find him in this ridiculous horned helmet, waltzing around stabbing imaginary bad guys and practicing excellent brazilian jujitsu. Since I was his closest confidante, he tried to explain things to me and keep me involved...but unfortunately, that night was a full moon, so I accidentally killed him and escaped across the countryside. I ran from Chicago to Milwaukee that night! I never really ran into him again, but ever since then I've been catching glimpses of him in crowds. But that's impossible, because I killed him, so there."

Natasha waits a long time before replying. I'm not surprised-that was a mouthful, even for me.

"This man," she started, leaning over the table and looking me in the eye. "What did he look like?"

"Like I said," I described nonchalantly. "Dark hair, almost to his shoulders, slicked back. Always looked sorta greasy. Kinda pale, but regal features. He could charm the socks off of Mike's cat, if he put his mind to it. Like to wear lots of greens and grays, and a gold chain around his neck. But his eyes were _really _strange, blue one minute and green the next. Why?"

Natasha put her hand up to her ear, looking away as she spoke.

"Fury, we have a hit."

My face blanched.

"That's not possible," I blurted. "He took a swipe that gashed open his _whole chest._ I remember exactly what the wound looked like. No one could have survived that. He's dead. D-E-A-D. Right?"

But by then, Natasha was halfway out the door. But she paused to say three words to me.

"Bagel. Peanut butter."

And then she was off. Well, I lost _that_ bet.


	3. Chapter 3

After unzipping my straitjacket haphazardly, she walked out of the room a little too urgently for my liking, still talking to the Director through her ear as she carried on. I got up and began to pull the tarplike garment off of me, reflecting on my mile-long lie. I had only realized after Black Widow's reaction that I had subconsciously been describing a man who looked a lot like Loki, who was currently S.H.I.E.L.D.'s public enemy numero uno. I didn't know why I had lied so badly-I'd never done that for anything, to anyone. I'm sure I would've made Loki proud, if I actually knew him. It suddenly hits me how deep I've gotten myself in. A not-so-little fib has guaranteed me extended stay in custody of the Avengers, possibly worse if I'm not careful. But I'm not the best liar in the world...far from it, really, which is why I'm amazed that Natasha apparently believed me. Whom could I trust to help me out of this?

In walk two new people, both of which I instantly recognize from the movies. The buff guy with the blondish-brown hair was Hawkeye, which was pretty awesome by itself. But that wasn't not the best part, not by a long shot. The handcuffed guy he was pushing in front of him had shiny black hair, semi-medieval apparel, and greeny-blue eyes. No joke.

It's Loki.

Loki loki loki loki.

Oh my gods.

What is that in his pocket?

"Hawkeye, right?" I chirpped, smiling at him. I was trying as valiantly as I could not to show my overreaction to Loki's presence. Hawkeye just looked at me like I'm weird and cuffed Loki to the chair that Fury had just vacated. Sighing and rolling his eyes, surprisingly similarly to a teenager, Loki took that as an invitation to sit down. I still had that song stuck in my head, so I inadvertently started humming it. Loki glared at Hawkeye, undoubtedly asking him why he is being faced with this imbecile.

"If I may ask, why am I being interrogated by a Midgardian child?" he demanded. That kinda hurt my feelings, so I shut up. No doubt they were both grateful for that.

"Because you two know each other, as far as Fury is concerned," replied Hawkeye stoically. "If I told you more, I'd be burned."

With that, Hawkeye was outta here before either of us could say another word. Loki smiled at me fakely.

"Hello, 'friend,'" he introduced. I wasn't sure how to reply-my brain tends to go AWOL at the least convenient of times.

"Yes, hi," I replied, a little too woodenly. I glanced around the room, certain that there were cameras somewhere. But I could find none. I still knew that they were watching, but there wasn't much I could do about that. I leaned over the table casually, gesturing with a flick of my head at Loki.

"Can you see the cameras?" I whispered in a low voice. He cast his gaze around the room. I couldn't check behind me, as that would be too obvious a gesture. And in any case, perhaps his alien vision was keener than mine.

"How do you know there are cameras?" he replied, narrowing his eyes at my apparent paranoia.

"C'mon, man, this is _S.H.I.E.L.D._," I pointed out, glaring slightly. In honesty, Loki should've known that...I had a feeling that had just been a test. "They've got to have cameras."

Loki looked up at something behind me, then turned it into a sigh and a backwards stretch to conceal his actions. "Yes. One behind you in the top left corner, and there are doubtless others. Why?"

"Can you fool them?" I asked, ignoring his question for the time being. He nodded, waiting for me to explain. I took a deep breath, pressing my forehead to the steel tabletop for what felt like eternity.

"I'm waiting," reminded Loki in a bit of a singsong voice. I looked up finally, bracing myself for my confession.

"I convinced Fury that I'm one of your ex-agents," I admitted, speaking in a low voice even though I knew that Loki had it covered. "which I'm obviously not. You would know. That's why you were sent in here. They doubtless want to catch our reactions to each other to determine if I'm telling the truth."

"You could've told me that before I pulled the illusion," he growled. I shrugged guiltily.

"In any case, if they find out I'm lying, who knows what they'll do to me?" I insist, my inner fear bleeding into my voice and giving me a panicky tone. "I don't know why I lied, I just did. Getting to hang with the Avengers is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you know? But I'm in too deep and I don't know how to dig myself out of-"

"Hey," Loki silenced me. I whimpered and concealed my face within my folded arms. I was about to cry, which would have been pretty embarrassing to a god. But I was just overwhelmed all of a sudden. I had no idea how I'd gotten myself in such a fix, it had all happened so fast. And why the heck would a fugitive god stoop to help me out of a fix that just so happened to involve him? For all I knew, he would condemn me to a mindwipe and/or execution. Loki isn't known for his mercy, just his lies. But at the same time, his smooth talk and animosity towards the Avengers is the only thing that can help me. He nudged me, causing me to look up at him again. I know how cliche this is going to sound sound, but I can't stop myself from thinking it:

_ Help me, Loki. You're my only hope._

"I'm the God of Mischief," murmured Loki sensitively, inexplicably calming me. I was fully aware that he could be manipulating me into my grave, but I was powerless to fight his enchanted wordplay. "I've conned my brother, my enemies, whole realms, even."

Here he gave me his most winning smile, which secretly made my fangirl's heart flutter.

"Your secret is safe with me."


	4. Chapter 4

"Then again, there is the manner of my fee," he casually mentioned, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. My face immediately dropped into my best are-you-kidding-me look.

"You're kidding?" I drawled flatly. He shrugged unhelpfully at me.

"What self-respecting god would save a mortal of no consequence for free?" he pointed out. "Of course, your human currency will be no good to me. What do you have to offer? Why should I care?"

I sighed uglily, hitting my forehead on the countertop. That was exactly what I was thinking. I should've known, in all logic, but I was about as logical as a puppy that isn't walked enough. Finally I looked up, smiling deceptively.

"I've got something," I said breezily. Loki smirked at me because he knew I was bluffing, but the look in his eyes gave away a spark of faith.

"What could you possibly have to interest me?" he scoffed. I raised my eyebrows in a your-loss kind of expression.

"Magic," I purred tantalizingly. "The strongest, most elusive kind. Common as dirt, too. But even for the wisest sages, it often hides under their noses for decades. Centuries, even, depending on the sage."

"What do you know of magic?" he challenged skeptically. "I've been a scholar all my life, which is laughably longer than yours. I know every kind. No such arcane style of your description exists."

"Then turn me in," I offered nonchalantly, leaning back smugly. "If you're not interested, then don't bother covering me up. Go find someone else to teach it to you...maybe Gandalf? Wait, no, he perished fighting a balrog. Who else studied that magic? Twilight? Odin forbid...who knows where she is by now! Last I heard of her she was on a crazy crusade to Vanirheim, said she'd had a breakthrough. No one's seen her since...and that was, oh, how many decades ago?"

"I get it," interrupted Loki testily, glaring at me to let me know that he was not happy with me in the slightest. "I take it you're the only living student of this...mystery magic?"

"Student? I wish," I corrected, rolling my eyes in a secretly sad way. "I don't have a drop of magic in me-except for the werewolf part, of course, but obviously that kind of magic isn't consciously harnessable. But yes, I was close to the late Twilight Sparkle, who was the furthest pioneer in this particular strain of magic. If anyone can teach you, it's me."

Loki narrowed his eyes at me for a long time, trying to penetrate my poker face as deeply as he could before following up on my claim. Well, it wasn't really a con; as you will see, I indeed knew of an 'elusive magic.' But Loki was quite possibly the least qualified person to figure it out...unless I could change him.

That's the stupidest idea I've ever thought, and that's saying something. How could I change a god for the sake of studying a fake magic? Well, not technically god, just hyperadvanced alien race. But same difference: I was conning myself further and further. When the kriff would I be sober enough to quit?

Finally, he nodded at me.

"I believe you," he said blankly.

"Class begins as soon as I get out of this mess," I informed with a slightly nervous smile. I wondered if he noticed my tenseness at lying. "Which would be?"

"...you're asking me?" clarified Loki. I nodded, tilting my head at him as if that was a problem. Now it was his turn to run his are-you-kidding-me face.

"I thought you had a plan!" he hissed. I shrugged sheepishly.

"I'll think of something!" I excused. In all factuality, it was highly unlikely that I would, and he knew that as well as I did.

"Okay, sure," he agreed sarcastically. I could literally see a storm brewing in his expression. "Probably something involving 'unicorns,' and 'fairies,' and all sorts of nonsense that you made up. I can't wait."

"Good, 'cause I'll need your help!" I blurted cheerily. He narrowed his eyes at me again-he tends to do that a lot when he's confused but doesn't want to show it. "And yes, it might involve fairies, if Foaly doesn't have too much on his plate. Unicorns are extinct, by the way-or so I've heard. Anyway, I've got a theory, but I don't know if it's one hundred percent sound. Plus, I'm not smart enough to conjure an equation to express it. Well, equate it. Expressions are totally different. Maybe I could rope Stark into it? Or maybe even Banner...no, definitely Banner. He's got way more experience in this kind of-"

"What the $*# are you thinking?" he interjected, probably confused as anything with my aimless rant. I winked at him. Doubtless he wanted me to continue, but just then, in walked my soon-to-be least favorite person: Director Nick Fury.


End file.
